


when backbones are stronger than wishbones

by waterfront



Series: Pearls, Pretty Girls, and Firing Pins [2]
Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: F/M, Shit goes down, a lot of people die, also dont hate but cliffhanger, but not this one, i shall post the follow up soon and everyones fine in THAT one, its intense, lemme just say now, part two of rival gang, people die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:32:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9141106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterfront/pseuds/waterfront
Summary: After a terrible change in her life, Kate is forced to re-evaluated some things, her involvement with Seth being most of most concern. As the Five crime families of New York begin to crumble, Kate searches for truth and allies in a deadly oncoming war. Who can she trust? What secrets has her family kept? And is Seth Gecko in love with her, or simply a monster?





	1. the day we grow up

The rain that fell from the sky onto the jet black umbrellas, open like raven wings, was fat and heavy, gluttonous and wasteful. 

It ran slow, warm, onto the oak casket hovering in its hole. It pattered, like oil drops from a gutted car, onto the backs of dozens of those, with their eyes downcast, surrounding the ditch. The voice of the priest was an inseparable buzz from the lilt of the rain. 

“Death is an inevitability, for all of us. But those who walk in the light of the Lord shall not fear or find the darkness. Our Shepard comes to lead us all home when our time comes.”

Kate sat between Sean, her uncle, and Dickie on the first row, staring down into the mud and the dirt. The black veil sewn into the rim of her hat pocketed her vision, distorting reality. She hadn’t dropped a single tear. Both Sean and Dickie assumed it was her grief that kept her silent, but they would never be sure because they never asked. She kept her mouth tight and her hands were bound together by each other to keep from shaking. To an outsider, Kate was in heavy mourning. She hadn’t eaten in two days and on the day of the funeral, she had not been seen except when she walked into the black town car with her uncle and his bodyguards. 

Yet no one asked— or considered, really— another possibility. 

Her silence was rage. Not grief.

That would come later. 

It had all happened so quickly.

_ The meeting of the Five had ended without much disconcerting note. Agreements and settlements had been kept. No one had moved to lean on Tatiana’s trade, which was something of a small miracle. Perhaps the good will had been something to do with the holidays being near, but Kate doubted that very much. When the annual meeting was originally established, it was meant to be a time of celebration, of companionship, among the five crime families— everyone was encouraged to stay and drink and talk and put bad blood aside, for one night. But as Kate stood with Dickie, watching the families spill out from the St. Regis, it was all a visible relief for most to be free from the four walls of enclosure.  _

“We are gathered here today to celebrate a life full of joy, and love, and great accomplishment,” the priest continued. Beyond him, the streets exhumed breaths of reeking heat, great clouds of expiration rolling up from the warm streets. Summer in New York was agonizing without a funeral, and the black dress, her heels, the bun tucked low on her head, only made the sweat on her back even stickier. Beyond the high trees and buildings that stared down like onlookers, Kate thought of the hospital and her heart clenched. 

_ Her father and Scott were the last to leave. Kate had purposefully turned to Dickie when the Geckos left and Seth made an incredible effort to keep his gaze away from her. She watched them, out of the corner of her eye, leave in silence in their black Corvette.  _

_ Why she stayed back, laughing with Dickie over something truly inconsequential, she would never know.  _

_ One minute, the fog lifted from the streets after the rain was cool on her cheeks, and the next, a rush of hot air from the explosion blew her hair off her shoulders.  _

_ Her father’s town car was in flames. There were bodies nearby. Dickie was screaming something and a valet had the good sense to call 911.  _

_ She had reacted to slowly to save anyone, but when she saw a flicker of movement down the street, it was as though someone had turned on the light. She snatched up Dickie’s gun from his holster and raced down after the shadow.  _

Sean had specifically closed down this area of the graveyard because his grief was meant to be private. Kate lifted her head and looked down the winding black road and watched the camera flashes and press scramble at the gate. She knew there would no longer be quiet peace in this city for a long time.

_ The shadow was fast, but small. Kate had been in the presence of fast men her entire life and knew when to sprint and when to shoot. He passed under a streetlight and Kate stopped, aimed, and fired. _

“He was a loving and godly man. He had a beautiful family, that not even death can touch. The Lord is my Shepard and I shall not wander. He has called another child home, and we shall all feel the loss of Jacob Fuller.”

_ The boy was bleeding badly. Kate had speared him right below his lung. He was bleeding out fast, dark blood oozing out the side of his mouth as he lay in the dirty street.  _

_ “Who did this?” She demanded, pressing a heel into his chest. “Who are you working for?” _

_ The boy coughed, his eyes watering, and looked at her with something like sorrow. “Seth Gecko,” he said.  _

_ With his last breath, a stranger made the death of her father a focal point in her life, a point from which all else could be traced back to, like a light eclipsed by a dancer on a stage.  _

_ Words failed her for the next thirty-six hours. _

The terse buzz of a bugle horn broke out over the heavy silence. It played and played, a sad sound of remembrance, as her father’s casket was lowered into the ground. As the eldest child, she stood, went forward and dropped one lily over the wooden box. She thought of his charred corpse in the ground and wondered how long it would take for him to fade away completely. She kept the second lily for Scott, who was in ICU and had been for the past week. 

Her brother always liked lilies and she wanted a bouquet of them nearby when he woke up.

* * *

She had kept the boy’s final secret trapped on the back of her tongue for more than a week and it was beginning to rot her on the inside.

“Kate, you have to eat.” 

She lifted her gaze and found Dickie smiling sheepishly at her with a plate full of mashed potatoes. His pocket-marked face was scrunched up, somewhere between happiness and overwhelming sadness. She smiled at him and gently shook her head. 

“C’mon, Katie, this is going to be a long day for you. You gotta have your strength.”

She glanced down the line of chairs to her right. The line of condolences literally went out the door, each face solemn or an absolute mess. Around her, those already in the house whispered quietly, as though God himself might be listening. Women openly wept while their husbands drank and looked empty inside. 

The death of her father had left a gaping hole in the lives of hundreds. And she was going to be the person they looked to for guidance.

“Dickie, thank you, but really, I’m fine.” 

Dickie’s mouth turned upside down and he stood upright. “Alright. I’ll keep this aside, just for you. But it don’t seem like people want to eat much anyhow.” 

The tables of food were in fact untouched. Casseroles, however customary, seemed to be the last thing on anyone’s mind. 

“They’re going to be watching you, you know?” 

Kate glanced over her shoulder at her distant cousin. He was uncomfortably rubbing the back of her chair with his hand, face dark with worry. “What?”

“These people, the family, you know . . .” He leaned forward, patchy red beard coming slightly closer. “With your dad gone, they’re all scared. Maybe you should let Sean take over for a bit.” 

She hadn’t missed their looks, the underlying disbelief in the eyes of those who gently shook her hand or eclipsed her body with their hugs of condolence. She was only twenty-two. And a girl. Of course, the family lineage should pass to her older uncle, the one who most likely knew the course of the family as much as Jacob had. However, it seemed her father disagreed. In his will, in no uncertain terms, he named Kate the immediate heiress in the event of his death. Sean had been annoyingly distant the moment the family lawyer read that aloud.

“My father thought I was the best choice,” she snapped at Dickie, perhaps harsher than she meant. He physically retracted. “You can’t exactly take it up with him, so get over it.”

A wailing woman crossed over the threshold and the house filled with the cries of agony. Kate stood, her heart knocking loudly against her ribs. “Now if you’ll excuse me, this noise is making my head hurt.” 

Kate brushed past Dickie, still holding a plate of cold potatoes in his hand, and moved up the back staircase. The upper levels were quiet, but absent of sound in a different way. Below, the air was stale and the whispered voices were lonely. Here, in the long stretch of hallway that led to the bathrooms and guest bedrooms, it was breathable again. 

And it struck her for the first time that her father was really dead.

Kate nearly stumbled into a wall and pressed her hands into her face. 

Still no tears. Just a dull pain in the back of her eyes.

She heard footsteps. Fucking Dickie and his potatoes. 

“Dickie, please, just leave me alone!” 

Sighing, Kate lowered her hands, and found herself staring at Seth. She blinked twice, as if she had suddenly fallen into a bizarre dream. 

His eyes were sad, the lines of his face were soft, blurred. 

“Kate. I’m so sorry. I tried calling— the line downstairs is out the door— I came in through the back—,”

Two weeks ago, she would have taken his pity and maybe let him hold her. Maybe let the son of the enemy of her father express some sort of comfort for her. But that was then.

And this was war.

He already played his hand.

“You know, I almost fell for it. There was about two seconds there, where you almost,  _ almost _ got me to believe your shit.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Kate set her jaw and she swore she saw a flash of red. Anger was a nasty, and for the Fullers, a reflexive emotion. Loyalty, honesty, and commitment were the pillars of her house and Seth Gecko had infiltrated her, in every way, every crevice with her body and soul, and it had nothing but a power-play to him. A move on the chessboard where bodies and lives were black and white, pieces to be removed at will for the great good. Her heart had been a thing to be used to gain an advantage over an opponent. When she got home that night, after gunning down her father’s murderer, the queasiness had set in first. But as the hours went on, that slippery sickness in her gut solidified into an iron rage. Solidified into a metal bullet she aimed to bury deep in Seth Gecko’s skull.

“You order the hit on Jacob Fuller. While you were fucking me in the bathroom of that hotel, you had a man plant a bomb under his car.” 

Seth’s thick eyebrows arched out of sheer surprise, dumbfounded. Kate clenched her fists and realized she was trembling with fury. A million desperate and terrible things were knocking against the back of her teeth. 

_ How could you do this? I let you in to my home, my heart—  _

_ You said we could be something. You wanted us to be something— _

_ I was going to leave everything for you— _

They crashed like waves, with knives, into her open heart and rearranged themselves to one phrase:

“You betrayed me.” 

Seth’s face fell, tumbling through fear, disappointment, and finally, on something much like her own, anger. 

“Excuse me? You think I did this?” 

What was it her mother said? Steel eyes make diamond lies? 

Kate crossed her arms, hiding anything that made her female. Anything he could use against her. She took a small step back and his lips opened as if she was falling into a cavern beneath the ground, to a place where he could not reach her.

“You and I began an affair two months ago. You asked me to run away with you the same night my father was murdered.” She bit the corner of her mouth. He just watched her, stunned. “I think you want my father’s kingdom and what better way than to seduce his daughter and then take out the competition. What’s left standing?” 

She watched a wall drop behind his eyes and he crossed his arms, his gaze distant and to her left. 

“I thought— after two months— I’m not like that.” 

Something sharp in her throat suddenly expanded and for the first time in a week, she almost cried. 

“I didn’t think so either.”

“Where’s your fucking proof, Kate? How could you possibly accusing me of this?”

“I gunned down the man who planted the bomb.” She felt her skin break out in a clammy sweat as though her body had fallen ill in an instant. “I shot him and he told me you hired him.” 

“And you’re going to believe some dead asshole?”

“Why would he lie?” 

“So— what?” He gaped in disbelief. “You think the past two months have been for kicks? Or what, we’re trying to move on the Fuller territory?” 

Kate bit her tongue, her gaze unwavering from his—  _ please deny it, deny any of it, all of it _ — and shrugged. 

“Holy shit, you do.” 

Seth stepped back, chuckling so darkly she could almost feel the hate unfurl in his chest. He looked at her and she saw the myriad of hurtful things he wanted to say swirling in his eyes. But in the end, he closed himself off from her and simply settled for defeat.

“You’re wrong,” he said slowly. “You’re wrong, but you’re going to make a great lord. Cold-hearted bitch, through and through.” 

They paused, every apology riding in on the breath in their lungs, but they never exhaled.

Seth, without looking back, turned and went down the stairs.

Kate finally breathed for the first time in what felt like days and caught throat full of tears. Her knees buckled and immediately she rolled into the bedroom door to her right. She shut it behind her and slid to the floor, great heaving sobs escaping her like plumes of smoke from a chimney. In two weeks, she had almost lost everything. She thought of Scott in critical care, how he could not attend his own father’s funeral, and she cried harder. 

Maybe the gawkers were right— she couldn’t lead— she couldn’t give the people the strength they needed— not when—

A knock rattled the door near her head. 

Panting, Kate wiped at her eyes.  _ God, please don’t be Sean— _

She tried breathing deeply, but her throat was sticky with tears, so she swallowed twice and dabbed her ruined mascara with the corner of her sleeve. 

Kate stood and opened to the door to someone who wasn’t her uncle, Dickie, or Seth. His face was somber, dark eyes full of shame and sadness, his shoulders slumped—

“Carlos—,”

She leapt forward, her arms going around Carlos Madrigal’s neck and she burrowed her face near his familiar scent. He wrapped himself around her waist, muttering a string of apologies. 

“I’m so sorry I went away, Ms. Kate.” 

She shook her head against him. “You didn’t know— you couldn’t have— you had your family to see—,”

“You’re my family.” 

She squeezed him tighter. Her secrets felt like oil in her mouth. “Carlos, I messed up— I’ve ruined everything—,”

“Shh,  _ senora _ , this is just grief talking.”

Kate pulled away, her eyes already wavering with tears. “No, you don’t understand— my father is dead because of me. I— I slept with Seth Gecko.” 

* * *

“Are you sure you want to do this, Ms. Kate?”

She looked over across the backseat of her town car. His mouth was drawn into a dark line, eyes serious. After all these years,  _ ‘Ms. Kate’ _ had become more of a nickname, the formalities unnecessary. When they found Carlos, he was barely more than a boy, trying to escape a separate turf war of his parents in New Jersey. He had proven himself a loyal, capable, and compassionate fighter— quickly becoming Jacob’s fondest bodyguard, confidante, and in Kate’s eyes, another adopted brother. It was stifling sometimes, having two blood-thirsty siblings, but to her, their earned trust mattered more than blood ties. 

She smiled at Carlos and took his hand between her fingers. There was no one she’d rather have beside her, in battle, in times of joy, and especially in times of crushing darkness.

“I have to do this. I have to find out if the Geckos are behind my father’s murder.” 

He nodded, squeezing their hands once, and his gaze returned to the flashing of towering buildings outside. 

In his Carlos way, he retracted when she told him about Seth. He was processing, thinking. She watched him do it, a hundred times before, and realized she couldn’t bear it if he was angry. If he turned her away. While Scott had always been the aggressor, Carlos considered every action and every possible reaction. He was formulaic and calculating, when to punch with your right and when to extend your left hand in diplomacy. When she had been a channel of emotion, he was the cool intellect to quell. 

Could logic be so disappointed in emotion as to cleave it out entirely? 

But he hadn’t. Carlos calculated and Carlos thought, and responded with something in his native tongue that a smile on his face, something about love and prisoners and God. She knew it would be beautiful if she understood, and only hugged him in response.  

Yet, since then, he had not let her out of his sight. As if he feared the Geckos would come to take their retribution. As if he feared she would try and forgive Seth. 

So, she was strong. She made up her mind to handle the investigation herself and stay out of the house of her father as much as she could. That day, she, dressed in dark boots, and long forest green raincoat, went with Carlos down to the most notorious weapon’s expert in New York. 

“I feel obligated to say, I don’t like this.” Carlos said dryly, as the buildings grew shorter and squattier, and the streets slowly became grubbier. 

“She’s the best in the business,” Kate responded with a shrug. “She’ll know something.” 

“Yes, but these people are often more interested in more than just money.” He glanced at her and she saw the worry behind the bravado of his snake-skin boots. “You must promise me to be careful.”

“I don’t need to be careful. I have you.” 

By the time the driver slowly pulled up to the curb, their spotless town car seemed to vibrate with electric waves, ringing clearly into the half-lit street that an abundance of wealth had crossed out of the golden gates. A few perplexed heads lifted out of windows and up off crumbling porches as the car turned off, but the moment the sleek doors opened, they all turned away. 

Kate, with her opaque black glasses covering half her face despite the cloudy day, stood from the car and looked up at the pale neon pink sign glittering in the pale light. 

_ Pandemonium Pawn Shop _ . 

“What would it take for me to convince you to get back in the car and leave this all alone?” 

Carlos stood beside her, staring up, the gloom on his eyes as dark as the skies. He glanced at her out of the corner of her eye and she smiled sadly. He sighed and extended his elbow to her as if they were walking into the Ritz together. Above them the sky rumbled, promising sweltering humidity, and together they went to find the woman known to the organized crime syndicate of New York as  _ La Diosa _ . 

Fortunately, she wasn’t exactly in hiding. 

The woman was sitting on a glass case in the back of her shop surrounded by every kind of bobble and trinket imaginable. Her dark hair curled in a braid over her shoulder, the tip tickling the barrel of the black hunting rifle in her lap. She was loading bullets into the magazine when the tinkling of the bell above the door made her raise her head. The mouth of her legendary serpent tattoo was just barely visible above her blood-red shirt. Among the rumors, some said she danced as a show girl in Mexico, that her scars spoke of abuse of every kind. Kate eyed the woman, with every inch of her dark skin covered, and felt pity for the man that tried to lay a hand on  _ La Diosa  _ without her approval. 

“You’re Katherine Fuller.”  _ La Diosa _ was not the type to ask questions. Her gaze was electric but her body was still, hardened. As if she could strike in the blink of an eye. 

Kate nodded. Carlos stepped in front of her myopically, as if to steady a weapon away from Kate. The brown eyes rimmed with gold snapped to the newcomer. 

“I am the one who called _ , La Diosa _ .” His head dropped, unconsciously or not, nearly in genuflect. “We are here seeking information about the death of Jacob Fuller.” 

The woman slid the gun from her lap and dropped to the floor. Her boots seemed to shake the ground when she landed. Her attention was once again trained on Kate. In the folds of her coat, Kate clenched her fist; she had never been under fire, but would you know when you were in the sight of a sniper? 

“My name is Kisa and that is the only name I respect.” She looked at Kate as if that were a contractual agreement, so she nodded. “Good. Come. I will show you what I have found.” 

She crossed the shop in a few strides, and went through a side door. Kate bustled after her, Carlos at her side. Through the beads, a wide room opened up. It was significantly darker than the green-lit pawnshop, and much narrower. In the center were three tables, and on the middle one, sat what looked to Kate to be simply a bunch of charred metal. 

Kisa took the goggles from the nearby workbench and slipped them on. She pointed to the left side of the metal hunk at the portion that seemed slightly salvageable.

“It was designed to cause maximum damage in a tight space. Both to the physical surroundings and to the bomb itself.” She picked up a metal wand-like instrument and lifted back what had been the top to show the melted ruins itself. “Often, an attacker wants his target to feel his threats, but this man was determined to cover his tracks.”

“So you’ve found nothing about who built this?” Carlos interjected.

Kisa glowered at him, as though he were a student who interrupted a particularly important lecture. “I didn’t say that. The wiring, the material, the detonation— it’s all Russian.” 

Kate thought of Tatiana and her grief-stricken house and frowned. “Russian?”

Kisa nodded slowly. “But the design is . . . wrong. Like he put it together in the dark and quickly. I’ve seen some incredible engineering come from the Russians, but this is a mockery.” 

Kate blinked. Not the work of an Italian. Unless Seth had been working  _ with _ the Russians . . .

“Tell me about the detonation.”

Kisa flipped the husk over and pointed down into the machine. “Like I said, it was meant to be a close-range explosion. The target was specific and the timing had to be right.” She held up what looked to be the charred remnants of a cellphone. “Someone was watching and called the number at the exact moment the target was within range.” 

“But both Scott and I were there. Why not wait until I got in the car, and take out the entire line?”

Kisa shrugged. “You weren’t the target.” She replied, morbidly. 

None of this made any sense. If Seth had been behind the attack, why would he spare her? And if he was using Russian tech, was he expecting her to go after Tatiana and start a new war? 

But, spoke a gentle voice in her head, what if Seth had nothing to do with any of this at all? Kate closed her eyes for a moment to clear away that stubborn voice. 

“Anything else?” 

Kisa set her jaw, almost frowning. “Despite its less than elegant design, it was highly effective. Death was instantaneous.” Her dark eyes swiveled to Kate and she saw that felt surprisingly like empathy. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Was that what respect felt like, peace on a broken bridge of solidarity? Kate straightened her shoulders and nodded.

“Thank you, Kisa. And thank you for your expertise.”

“I’ll call if I find out anything else.” 

The bell from the shop tingled and Kisa frowned and removed the goggles, as if the new visitor was a surprise. Kate glanced at Carlos and silently, he reached for her hand and the two followed Kisa out of the backroom. 

Standing in a pale blue coat, five diamonds visible on her throat, and her soft blonde hair swept up into a bun, was Tatiana Romanov. Her expression dropped from haughty disinterest to slim anger the moment her eyes fell on Kate. 

“Well, now, if it isn’t New York’s very own little princess. What would she and her . . . Havana rat be doing down here?”

Kate felt Carlos stiffen next to her. 

“I’m from Spain,  _ chica _ .” 

“Oh, I don’t care.” 

“What are you doing here, Tatiana?” Kate stepped forward, Carlos one syllable away from going postal. 

The Romanov pursed her lips. “That is none of your concern, child.” 

“Actually it is, if you’re looking to pick a fight.”

Tatiana narrowed her blue eyes, the long icicles in her ears sparkling. “What are you—,”

A bullet-sized hole exploded through her forehead and Kate was splattered with warm blood. The Russian queen’s eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped to the ground, her exquisite necklace marred with blood and bits of flesh. Kate’s scream was stifled by Carlos’s warm hand as it went around her mouth and he pulled her to the ground. Without hesitating, Kisa grabbed the loaded rifle off the counter and fired three shots through the already broken glass. 

Yet, there was no return fire. The air outside was still. 

“ _ Hijo de puta _ . . .” Kisa cleared the counter in one jump and stormed outside, rifle on her shoulder. 

“Ms. Kate, are you alright?” Carlos was watching Kisa storm the front of the store, as though expecting an army at her doorstep. He glanced down and saw Kate slowly wipe her cheek of Tatiana’s blood with a shaking hand. She managed to nod and together, they helped her to her feet. 

Kate had seen her fair share of bodies in her family’s line of work, but rarely was it a woman and rarely was it unprovoked. Her stomach churned at the sight of Tatiana’s bloody body. The back of her head leaked darkly onto the carpet, her eyes still half open. Her pale dress was spotted, tight around her slim figure. Kate thought of a stained glass painting of the Lamb of God at her local cathedral and shuddered. 

No one was innocent in this. 

“You two must go. I will call Viktor and tell him what’s happened.”

Viktor was Tatiana’s younger brother, but perhaps more ruthless than she ever was. Kate loathed to think what form his retaliation would take. 

“We were never here.” Carlos said firmly, as much of an instruction as a request. 

Kisa nodded. “Go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's short, only because the next one has a lot of meat! Hold onto your hat's people, New York is getting a shake down.


	2. the day we grow up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate is still reeling from the death of her father and maiming of her brother. She is visited by several folks who unintentionally make her life even more difficult, despite their best intentions. Still no word from Seth, yet he is seemingly intrinsically involved in her life, even after she cast him out. Why is it every time she makes progress in her father's murder case, something literally blows up in her face?

“You’re dropping your left elbow. Keep it close to your ribs, like I taught you.”

She went in again, the sound of padded plastic echoing in the empty training room. She felt a ribbon of sweat roll from her forehead down her throat. It splattered against the boxing ring floor and she carefully avoided the spill as she followed Carlos around the ring. His covered hands raised, she beat her wrapped fists against the pads.

She had visited Scott in the hospital again that morning and added another lily to his collection. She read to him from the paper and told him about what had happened at the pawn shop. But he hadn’t moved. With burns on three-fourths of his body, the doctors said it would be a long time until he moved, if ever. So Kate went home, tried to close the widening painful hole in her soul, and asked Carlos for a training session.

They went to her father’s old boxing ring. It had been shut down for a month out of respect— the owner a longtime friend of the family— but she had a key, given that she had spent much of her childhood wandering in between the heavy bags and sweaty bodies. When Scott turned fourteen, Jacob asked Carlos to begin training his youngest son and the boy had taken to violence with a flourish. Kate was also put through a program, but often at night and when the gym had closed. As though Jacob wanted to keep his greatest weapon a secret.

                “Focus, Kate, your mind is wandering.”

Kate set her jaw, the point of her ponytail tickling her back, and imagined the faces of those who populated her life. She thought of Viktor and his inevitable backlash. Against who specifically was erroneous. They would all feel his rage over the death of his sister and nephews. Someone was playing them. Why rig a Russian bomb to explode, and then kill the matriarch of the Romanov family?

She thought of Dickie, and Sean, and everyone who believed she wasn’t capable of leading. Of the whispers behind her back and the uneasy glares to her face. She punched harder and harder.

She thought of Seth and her anger felt hollow. She guarded her face with her knuckles, then released a series of rapid blows. She thought of Seth and his face when she accused him of betrayal.

He had been silent since that day. Nothing. Either he was planning or—

In pain.

Kate punched until she was out of breath.

She leaned forward on her knees, gasping for air.

And the Oscar for most surprised murder goes to . . .

                “Something on your mind, _princesa_?” Carlos was smirking as he took off the pads around his hands.

She threw him a look. “If there wasn’t, I’d think I’m doing something wrong.”

He handed her a water bottle and she drank from it greedily. She finally pulled away. “How am I doing? Am I still dropping my elbow?”

Carlos shook his head, smiling softly. “You’re doing just fine.”

Kate rolled her eyes and wiped the back of her arm across her forehead. “You know, for a big bad body guard, you’re kind of a softie.”

Carlos made a face and tugged on her ponytail. “You seem better.”

Was this how her father began? Burying fear and pain and sadness and self-consciousness underneath a mask that could be construed as anger, or power. She looked at Carlos’s hopeful smile and felt her heart squeeze. She remembered that her mother had been there as he climbed to his rightful throne and for the first time in her life, she wondered if he could have done it alone.

She swallowed, cleared her heart of how Seth made her feel, and tried for a playful grin.

                “Don’t make me kick your ass . . .”

                “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Well, that was the last voice she ever really expected to hear. Kate turned away, toward the entrance of the gym, her eyebrows raised.

                “Detective Gonzales.”

The NYPD officer tipped his wide cowboy hat in greeting. It looked slightly ridiculous this far north of the border, but Kate suspected he’d look even more ridiculous without it, like it was a part of him.

                “Kate. Carlos.”

In response, Carlos only narrowed his eyes. “I don’t remember ordering a side of _cabron_ with lunch.”

Gonzales raised his hands, in mock surrender. “I only came to talk, just as a concerned citizen.”

Kate began to unwrap her hands of the white tape. “So talk.”

                “We’re not getting very far in the investigation in your father’s murder.” Gonzales crossed his arms, a small smile playing at his bearded face, as if he already knew where this conversation was going. “The thing is, our experts say that the bomb we have in evidence is months old. Which is weird, given that the explosion happened only a couple of weeks ago. Kind of like the bomb you gave us wasn’t the real one.”

Kate shrugged and slid through the ropes around the ring. She dropped to the floor and sighed, Carlos on her heel.

                “Kate, I can’t help you if you don’t give us something to work with. Your father and I might have had some bad blood, given where we stand on the law, but it doesn’t have to be that way with you—,”

                “Oh, I see what this is. You’re trying to make good with the new boss in town.”

He looked at her in a way only a father could and frowned. “I’m trying to keep you from making the same mistakes your dad did.”

                “Jacob Fuller was a brilliant and good man, whatever _the law_ might say.” Kate crossed her arms, her skin warm from the work out. “He did more for this city than any politician ever has.”

Gonzales narrowed his eyes. “The police need that evidence. It’s still a murder case and we need to bring whoever is responsible to justice.”

Kate picked up her work out bag from the floor and with her chin raised in the way her mother taught her to look at powerful men, she met the detective’s gaze. “I completely agree.”

Gonzales shook his head, realizing it would be more effective to talk to a brick wall. He stepped away as if to leave, but paused. “You know, the hardest thing about growing up is realizing our parents weren’t always the heroes we expect them to be.”

Something curled in her throat, making it rough and dry. “What do you mean?”

                “ _Rinche_ , I think it’s time for you to leave.” Carlos aimed to step forward but Kate grabbed him by the arm.

                “What do you mean by that, detective?”

                “I mean your father was human and he did the thing humans do most: he lied.” Gonzales looked at her with true pity in his eyes. “Good day, Ms. Fuller.”

With the collar on his jacket up against the wind, Detective Freddie Gonzales turned and left the gym.

* * *

 

The next three months had become a blur to Kate Fuller, heir to the Irish throne.

In that time, every other matriarch and patriarch of the crime families had been assassinated under mysterious circumstances.

Kate went to the funeral of Han Shun, the last of crime families to be attacked. She went out of sorrow for Xan, despite their differences, and to pay proper respect. As she watched the funeral procession go by, she caught a glimpse of her would-be adversary. The young man’s face was drawn tight, careful to not show outward emotion. But the blackness of his eyes was all too familiar. Losing a parent was terrible, especially at a young age. While he was at least a good five years older, taking on the weight of the family line was a terrible price to pay for power.

There were dark times coming and everyone could feel it. It was as though something sinister had permeated New York’s water system, drawing harsh lines around the eyes of its citizens and making their cheeks hollow. With the death of Han, the crime families were collapsing into themselves, no one daring to make a move or a threat for fear of imminent destruction. It was the quiet before the hurricane and the leaves were just beginning to scuttle in a dry wind.

Kate dropped her gaze, looking at the black lace around her fingers. She thought of Mr. and Mrs. Doyle, who owned the bakeshop in the heart of the Irish quarter. They were always so kind to her, and Scott, and even Carlos. They were as warm as the ovens for their bread, and now they lived in fear of an all-out war on the streets. Their shop couldn’t survive shellfire.

She thought of the Murphy boys at the firehouse, how one family practically filled up an entire team. They ate like wild pigs, Mrs. Murphy affectionately said, and more than once, a Murphy boy had come to tell her he would be willing to fight for her in the coming war. She couldn’t ask for their lives, she said, but each one was willing and able to give it.

She thought of the O’Sullivans, and the Kelly sisters, and the O’Briens, and the Collins— and her heart twisted painfully for each.

No civilian had yet to be caught in these attacks, but it was only a matter of time before one family pointed fingers, either with proper conviction or without, and the war began. She thought of Xan and his collected demeanor and prayed that cooler heads would prevail.

She continued the investigation into her father’s death. Kisa had yet to return with any more news, but it seemed she was busy more often than not these days.

Two events happened in those three months that made her head spin.

The first happened when she was combing through old records in her father’s study. Assuming that Kisa was right, and for some reason the boy lied on his deathbed, and Seth in fact had nothing to do with the bombing, who else would have reason to kill her father? And what better way than to look at previous business dealings. But thus far, it was nothing new. Meaningless receipts and old bookkeeping notes from the early nineties. When she got down on her hands and knees to put the folders back in his safe, that was when she saw it: a small envelope tucked underneath the emergency cashbox.

It was unmarked, seemingly insignificant—

And when her fingers touched the lip, the windows behind her shattered, and she dropped to the ground. Gunfire pelted her father’s old books, his desk, the mahogany chair— everything erupted into splinters. A moment later it stopped and Carlos rushed into the room, and fired three rounds into the night. A bullet grazed her arm, she realized seconds later when she felt something cool roll down her elbow. Carlos helped her bandage her wound, and eased her into bed. The next morning, there was no trace of the envelope. On top of everything else, she wondered vaguely if she had dreamt ever seeing the out-of-place document in the first place.

The second was off a lead Kisa had given her. It was down at the docks, a little past noon. Kisa said she found the man who had shipped in the faux Russian parts, and he made his drop-offs every Thursday at 1:30. Perhaps there Kate would see someone of recognition.

And she did. Climbing out of a black Sedan, dressed in one of her more innocuous outfits, Kate raised her binoculars, jean jacket flapping in the wind.

Several grim-looking men were waiting at the edge of the dock for a small tug boat to pull up. However, despite her original intentions, that was not the most interesting thing she witnessed.

Seth Gecko was running, hunched over, from the back of the shipping warehouse, not ten feet behind them. Before the tug boat was in range, he raised two guns to the thugs waiting at the dock, no doubt announcing his presence. Kate was too far away to hear anything they were saying, but the scowls on the faces of the men at the dock were far from friendly. Interesting way to greet comrades, she supposed.

They talked, rather shouted, at each other for five minutes, before a black car pulled up behind Seth and without taking his eyes off the two dock men, he slid in through the open door, and the car shot off.  

Two months ago, she could have asked him what that meant and he probably would have told her. Did fucking someone gain the right to business dealings? Did it gain someone the right to honesty?

She tried to remember all the times Seth lied to her, and couldn’t remember a single one. That being said, there wasn’t a lot of opportunity to be lied _to_ , given that most of their moments alone was spent devouring each other. Teeth and tongues were a little preoccupied.  

Kate scolded herself and tried to reign in the moment that was swerving dangerously close into Thoughts about Seth territory. She rearranged her face into a mask of solemn sadness as the last of the funeral procession went by. As it faded, the two opposing sides would meet and melt together, the intention being the crowd would follow Han to his final resting place.

However, when she looked up to her mirror in the crowd, she caught eyes with someone who was already watching her— and just about the last person she ever expected to lock eyes with. Richard Gecko was staring at her like she was a curious puzzle he couldn’t quite solve, but perhaps given time, he would.

She stayed, stock still, as the crowd flowed and bent around her, as it did Richie. Like water, the throng of people pushed past the two solid objects in their way, and finally, they were the only two left standing.

                “I hear you’re accusing my family of murder.” He said, by way of greeting. “You shouldn’t do that without real proof. It’s rude. It hurts people’s feelings.”

                “What, all two of them?” She was sniping, but she was in a sniping mood. Carlos had been following her like an overbearing bulldog. The doctors told her Scott was mending slower than expected, but it was nothing to be concerned about. And last night, she experienced a vivid sex dream about her and Seth that left her breathless and so unethically aroused, she had to take a shower at three in the morning to finish it.

She crossed her arms at the other Gecko brother and scowled. “Where’s your shadow?”

                “If you’re referring to Seth, he’s got other business. I’m here solely as a diplomatic emissary.” He smiled in such a charming way that it had to be genetic and nearly bowed. “Did you know in Chinese culture, the color white is actually a symbol of death? Red, however, is a celebration of life. Hence, the tie.” He fingered a bright crimson cravat at his throat and grinned.

This was the Brilliant Mind of New York? If she weren’t so desperately determined to hate his brother, she might have found him likeable. Easy to talk to. Amicable. Trustworthy. Trustworthy enough to let her guard down.

Kate balled her hands into fists and narrowed her eyes.

                “I’m assuming there’s a reason you stared at me like I had three heads, so get to the point.”

Richie blinked at her, his gaze not harsh or overexposed. As though he was trying to make her understand telepathically all the things in his head.

                “It’s not easy, with everyone’s eyes on you, is it? One minute you’re a nobody, and the next you’re a somebody, and everybody’s making accusations about who you are as a person, and truth be told, all of it or some of it could be true, but they wouldn’t care.” Richie said, sadly. He looked away, knowing his story no long encompassed only her. “Nobody asked you if you wanted to be given all this power. It just kind of fell into your lap and now you’re expected to hold up your parents’ legacy, and you’re not even asked if you liked it— your parents’ legacy, I mean. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

Kate’s frown fell from anger to confusion. “Yes . . . I think.”

Richard Gecko sighed and took a step forward. “I’m here to protect my legacy, Kate, and I suggest you do the same. With old Han over there dead as a doornail— God rest his soul— the Five are going to be forced to reconvene. And when they do, you better be ready to get scrappy.”

He mimed boxing, striking her once in the face, and then in the gut. She couldn’t tell if he was threatening her or just playing. She eyed him carefully in either case. He dropped his hands when her expression didn’t change.

                “Look, I want you to know, from a Gecko you like, we did not order the hit on your father. His death was a goddamn tragedy, and I promise you, we’re going to find out who did it.”

                “Not if I get to them first.” Steel eyes make diamond lies. She pursed her lips, challenging him to rise to her bait. “And the follow up question to that is, why do you think I like you?”

                “Because,” he began and from his smirk, she felt panic drip into her like melted wax. Oh God, he knew. He knew and he was going to tell everyone, just to spite her. He was going to ruin her, her family, their legacy. Everything her father gave his life to build— “Because Seth is just not a people-person.”

Above them, the clouds shifted and a bolt of light hit the city. The air was suddenly warmer and stickier.

                “You take care now, Katie.”

Whistling, Richard Gecko turned on his heel, and wandered into the light.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is kinda short, only because the next chapter has so much meat to it! Stuff is coming and its cray--


	3. until we go down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The syndicate feud has reached a boiling point. Something's gotta give. For Kate, she gives Seth, but not before giving over herself completely.

It was well past midnight.

Carlos had fallen asleep on the couch outside of her room, finally, and in dark jeans and a navy blouse, Kate snuck past him, down the stairs, and out into her father’s town car. When she pulled out of the drive way, it began raining, so she flipped on the bright beams, driving down through back alleys and under bridges.

Kisa had called an hour ago with a meeting time and location. The address ended up being somewhere south, to an old place that had been a storage shelter for prohibitionists back in the day. It was technically still part of her father’s lands, but it didn’t make her feel any safer. While the message had been choppy, it was clear Kisa had found something specific about the bomb, and more importantly where it came from. From the voicemail, it also sounded like Kisa had heard something about her father that was “odd for his character.” The message had stopped then, and Kate blamed shitty New York reception.

Carlos, as much as his support and encouragement had meant, he had become truly agonizing. The only moment of peace she felt came when she was locked behind the bathroom door with the shower water running. He had become a dark shadow, nipping at the heels of anyone who tried to approach her without his signal past the velvet ropes. She knew he had her best interests at heart, but he was becoming nearly manic, demanding to know where she went and when she would be back, every day. There were times when she thought she was being followed, and had the systematic murder of the five most heavily guarded people in all of New York not recently taken place, she might have been miffed.

With the rain spluttering down, she checked the rearview mirror again. No shadows, no lights. Perhaps, this time she would actually manage to elude any tails.

She drove and drove and thought about her interaction with Richard Gecko. Opposing sides, but hunting for a common goal; to find her father’s murderer. Yet diametrically opposed reasons: to clear the family name or find justice. On one hand, she had yet to go public with the boy’s secret and while originally she had found it too terrible to be true, proper evidence suggested it simply wasn’t true from a logical stand point.

Kate realized, with a soft dawning, that she was pleased to know that Richard Gecko was on her side. Perhaps it was better than having the Brilliant Mind of New York strategically planning her down fall instead.

She pulled into a long stretch of empty road, where the old car factories once stood in their iron glory. Now everything was rusted and dark, like sad eyes watching time pass. Perfect place to keep old files because no one was ever around.

She switched off the car a few paces down from the front of the old bar and took a .22 out of the glove compartment. This was also a perfect place to be murdered and hide a body. With a black umbrella over her head, she slid out of the car and approached the boarded up bar.

The rain was muted inside, as though the building was crouching against the storm. The wood floors creaked on her boots but nothing moved. The space was nearly empty, except for a dusty bar and a few crates in the back. Kisa was nowhere to be found.

Kate dropped the umbrella, and immediately mentally kicked herself for not bringing a flash light. The main room was visible through the flashes of lightening and streetlights outside, but the wandering backrooms stood in total darkness. She bit her lip and checked her watch. Exactly to the minute Kisa said to meet.

Lightening flashed again, brightening the room to an almost day-like glow.

The crate boxes were illuminated, and across their front, the text read: Bridge House Shipping Co.

Something about that name tickled the hinge of recognition in her brain and the brink of understanding threatened to crack open. She wandered over, pulled at the faded crate door, and yanked it open.

Bridge House Shipping had been small company that began here in New York. Her grandfather had established some trade in Eastern Europe and used Bridge House to go back and forth. But in 1978, the company closed and everyone moved on to something else.

So why in the world would an old shipping crate from a small, unremarkable company be sitting in a prohibitionist bar nearly out of the city?

At the bottom sat another square box, this one cardboard. Inside, there were at least fifty identical folders like the one she found in her father’s safe. With a trembling hand, she picked one up and peaked inside.

Building plans. Evacuation notices. Property deeds.

Kate’s heart was thrumming her chest. None of it made sense. What was so important about deeds that her father was willing to hide these documents outside of their home? She checked the clock again. Kisa was late.

Kate bent down and scooped up the box in her arms. Perhaps this is what Kisa wanted to show her. Or maybe it was simply bizarre coincidence.

_There’s no such thing as coincidence_ , her father’s voice said gently in her head.

The rain was running heavy on the dark street when she left the bar. She was struggling with the umbrella and eventually decided not to bother with it. She stepped out onto the street and immediately her hair was tangled with the cool rain.

She went for her keys in her pocket when she spotted a second car. Her heart skipped a beat. From the distance, she couldn’t tell who was inside, if anyone.

The .22 was nestled snuggly in the back of her waistband. It would take her a critical second to drop the box and reach for the gun.

But, perhaps, that was not her only worry.

Above the rain, a distinct ticking noise echoed from the bar door behind her. Slowly she turned—

And a body knocked her across the street as the boarded windows of the old bar exploded in a gulp of hot fire. The box went flying out of her hands as they tumbled to the ground, fiery wood and plastic raining down like burning hail.

She hadn’t seen his face, but one deep breath in and she knew—

He rolled off her, panting slightly. He fell onto his elbows, the light of the dancing flame echoing in his eyes.

                “Now do you believe that I’m not trying to kill you?” Seth said breathlessly.

She watched him wordlessly as they both quickly became soaked to the bone in the midnight rain. He looked up at her and she held his gaze only for a moment. She pushed her wet hair out of her face and sat up, her face warm from the flames and smoke billowing out of the small bar. The box was drenched but intact.

Beyond the hazy rusty skyline, a siren wailed and their moment of quiet was over.

                “C’mon, we’ve gotta get somewhere safe,” she muttered and pulled herself to her feet. She feared speaking too much, saying the wrong thing, or even saying the right thing. He was close, again, and he smelled like ash.

Seth nodded and picked up the box for her.

                “Whatever this is, I hope it was worth almost dying over.”

The rain rolled from his obscenely long eyelashes and down his nose. She nodded and took it from him.

                “It was.”

* * *

When she pulled up to the brownstone that served as a safe house across town and cut the engine, neither one of them had spoken. Every time she tried to process what happened, her heart beat in just the way that made her head spin and she had to focus on the road. The weight of him in the seat next to her was not missed or ignored. He kept his arm on the window lip, looking out into the blurred lights and shapes as they drove in the night. If he felt like explaining how exactly he had found her, or how he knew the building was going to explode, it wasn’t showing.

But when they sat in the darkness, no thrum of the engine to occupy the white space, their mutual agreement to remain silent was quickly becoming stifling.

So they began at the same time.

                “How—,”

                “Are you—,”

Kate closed her eyes, blush threatening to creep up her cheeks, because this was not the way an heiress commanded a situation. This was not the way an heiress demanded respect, or negotiated with the enemy.

But when she lifted her gaze, and found his dark eyes watching her with remorse and almost relief, a thought occurred to her that proved he would always own a part of her, no matter how hard she tried to fight it or ignore.

Seth Gecko was not the enemy.

His bottom lip twitched as though there was something he wanted to say but every instinct within him was keeping him from it. Kate took the keys from the ignition and forced herself not to focus on his lips.

                “We should go inside. Anybody could have followed us.”

That seemed to spark something. “I don’t think it was just anybody. But yeah, let’s go.”

Kate fiddled with the keys once or twice at the door, while Seth tried to prevent any further water damage to the box by shielding it with his chest. She found the right key, twisted it in the lock, and bumped the door open with her shoulder. The two spilled inside and Seth’s hand found the light switch.

It was a singular room, with a small kitchenette and one door leading to, presumably, the bathroom. It was subtle and quiet, unassuming, and more importantly, safe. White sheets covered most objects in the room to prevent the encroachment of dust and without hesitation, Seth cleared the mini-bar with a flourish. He picked up a bottle of whiskey with a gentle groan.

                “Light at the end of the tunnel right here.” He unscrewed the cap and went to go find glasses in one of the cabinets.

Kate, however, was more concerned with the queen sized bed. She yanked the white sheet from its mattress and it stared up at her, completely immune to the churning morality in her stomach.

They were adults. This would be handled with adult care.

She picked up the box and dumped it on the bed, as though to fill up its haunting emptiness. Seth returned with a towel and a glass of whiskey. He ran a towel of his own through his damp hair and shed his outer jacket.

                “So what do we have here?” Seth took a sip from his glass and looked at her expectantly.

She shrugged and squeezed the water from her hair.

                “Something that puts us in the right direction, I hope.” Kate slipped off her blouse and tried to air out her white tank, her eyes roving over the files. Next to her, Seth stepped away and sat in the far chair.

She sat down and picked up the file closest to her. More recent property deeds and architectural plans, all in her father’s name.

                “I don’t understand. These are just deeds and land ownership grants. Why would my father need to hide these?”

Seth stood and picked up a file of his own. His face darkened the moment he opened it.

                “Do you know why he would have you followed?” He held up a long-range photo of Kate leaving her car in Time Square. That was at least a month old. Kate felt her stomach drop out.

She leapt across the bed as Seth dropped the file down onto the mattress.

There were at least twenty-five photos of her. Moving across town. Leaving and exiting her home. Visiting the hospital. She noticed one that was four months old.

                “Oh God—,”

Kate frantically grabbed one file, tore it open, and dumped the contents onto the bed.

Her worst fears came tumbling out.

Photos of her and Seth, locked together in heavy passion, greeted them. There were ones of them in the car, in the park, in the motel they rented on his birthday. Her mouth open in wanton pleasure, his hands around her throat. Seth’s face gruff and his teeth bared as he bit at her chest. Some were blurred, some only one face was visible.

Kate’s trembling hand went over her mouth as she picked up one taken through the window of an adjacent building from her penthouse downtown. Her back was arched, her hands pressed against his chest, their naked bodies conjoined as visible ecstasy rode through them. That one alone would ruin them both.

                “Oh my God . . .” she whimpered and dropped to the mattress, her knees no longer able to hold her up.

Seth was inspecting one himself. “Someone fucking knows,” he murmured, “and they’re saving these for blackmail.”

                “But who?” she said, her voice uneasy. There had to be at least fifty of them in there and with a sinking feeling, she realized these probably weren’t the only copies.

Seth swallowed as if trying to find his voice.

                “This is all blackmail.” He motioned to the pile of folders in front of them. “There’s something in those documents Jacob didn’t want anyone seeing. Now somebody came along and put it all together and is trying to fucking destroy us.”

                “ _But why?”_

She thought they had been so careful. They bought separate phones. They never talked more than five minutes in public. They met when their families were busy. How could she have been so stupid?

She didn’t realize the tears had escaped until Seth put a hand on her back.

                “Hey, c’mon, we’re gonna figure this out.” He sat down next to her and offered her his glass.

Kate threw it back in a single gulp and while it immediately burned her throat, it seemed to dry her tears. She coughed and put the back of her hand to her lips, her eyes closed, willing the sensation to die.

He gently rubbed her, up and down her spine, and when she opened her eyes, he smiled.

                “That’s it. Takin’ it like a champ.”

He took back the glass, eyes setting heavily. “Look, what I said back there, after the funeral— I had no right—,”

                “Seth, it’s not important. What happened, happened and—,”

                “No,” he said, softly. “I should never have said it, and I’m sorry.”

He was finding her threads again, pulling her apart, without even touching her. Kate’s breath caught in her throat, and watched her hands in her lap.

                “How did you know I was going to be there? At the bar?”

Seth took his hand back and propped himself up on his elbows over his knees.

                “I didn’t.” He scratched the back of his head. “You accusing me of murder kinda gave me a new purpose in life. I’ve been doing my own work to find out who made and planted the bomb. I’ve been tailing a couple of guys for a few days but the only thing I found was that that bar used to be a big meet up for the Latin Kings.”

Kate stood, her brow dipping, and picked up the glass Seth had originally given her. She took a sip and thought.

                “The Latin Kings? Not the Russians?”

Seth shook his head. “Every lead I come up with hits a brick wall. Some dies conveniently, or the records are out of date.”

At that Kate raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That might explain why I’ve been shot at twice in the past three months.”

Seth lifted his head, a dark expression passing over his face. As though he wanted to worry about her but wasn’t allowed to any more. “Oh.”

                “What else have you found?”

                “I don’t think the murders of all the Five leaders are random. I think this whole thing started with your father and for a reason.”

                “That reason being?”

Seth shrugged and kicked off his shoes. “There’s been a lot of brick walls, sweetheart.”

Kate bit down on her thumbnail, her gaze running along the baseboards of the room. “This is about the shifting of power. No one single family is responsible. Someone outside all of this wants us weak and vulnerable. But why?”

                “Admit it then.”

She looked up and saw him staring at her with almost a determined gaze. “What?”

                “Admit you were wrong and I never tried to hurt you.”

The last word that came out of his mouth was spoken with a gentle breath, as if he needed to protect every concept of her. She couldn’t quite put her and him in the same sentence because she still couldn’t fathom them being together in any sense, so she settled for her own confidence.

                “I was wrong. You were right.”

His eyes lit up with a dark kind of satisfaction, but in the end, he released a slow sigh. He glanced at the bedside clock. It was almost two in the morning.

                “You know what’s left of the Five has called a meeting for tomorrow, right?”

She nodded.

                “Then we should probably get some shut eye. Long, long day ahead.”

He began unbuttoning his starched shirt and she could only nod again.

She gathered up the photos, forcing herself not to focus on the bow of his mouth, or the tightness in his eyes. She slipped them back into the envelope as Seth gathered up the rest of the files and put them back into the box. She dropped the black mail on the top and he slid the box onto the kitchenette counter.

Kate slipped off her boots and socks.

Seth unthreaded his belt from his pants and tossed it with the growing pile of clothes. He downed the rest of her drink in one gulp and dropped the glass onto the window-side table

She laid down, flat on her back. Seth watched her before sliding down next to her on the open bed. He switched off the light and mirrored her position. Hands on his stomach, eyes gazing up at the white stucco ceiling.

Outside the rain dropped into a metal gutter, every clang seemingly louder than the next. The wind whistled. The small refrigerator clicked on and a low buzz filled the room.

                “Seth?”

She felt his resolve snap like cracking ice.

                “Fuck this—,”

He encompassed her in his broad arms and their mouths fell into each other like atoms colliding. Her fuzzy mind blanked out from the crushing weight of his body on top of her and she vaguely wondered how she had slept without him for so many nights. The weight was familiar, needed, and dizzying.

He slipped his tongue into her mouth, running slick inside, and she bit down on his bottom lip, silently scolding him for keeping everything a secret.

He moaned and she felt a warm buzz run from her spine down between her legs. His wide palm cupped the back of her thigh and he ground himself in between her hips, despite both of them being fully clothed.

                “Fuck, I missed you—,” he muttered into her neck as he dropped a trail with his lips around her jaw, down her earlobe, and to the base of her throat.

His hair was still a little wet and she toyed with it in her fingers.

                “Seth, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He tugged at her tank top and she arched her back to help him pull it over her head. His teeth met the curve of right breast and he bit and nipped and until everyone who looked would know she was his.

Her head spinning from his touches and the drink, she grabbed at his hips, needing that brush of skin again. He dipped out of his shirt before immediately diving for her jeans. They pulled and tugged at the other’s buttons until she was nearly naked underneath him.

His gaze was heavy and dark and it nearly choked her to see him like this again— locked in a tangled frenzy at the sight of her. She was damp between her thighs and she trembled in want. Seth’s tongue ran against his bottom lip before he kissed her again. He laid out at her side and his fingers went for the elastic band at her waist. Her hands still wrapped up in his hair, she nodded aimlessly and he slipped in, fingers curling inside of her.

She thought of him in the shower before but it was nothing like the real thing. Her tiny hands could not fill her up the way his did. He stroked her slowly, languidly, as if he wanted to hold onto every moment, every sigh and gasp she made, until it snapped.

                “Seth,” she mewled, her eyes closed against the ecstatic wave that threatened to drown her.

                “Yeah?” His reply was breathless. She glanced at him and his face was caught between dull bliss and almost wicked happiness. He kissed her forehead and added a second finger. Her back arched off the bed, and her fingers dug into his chest. Her head off the pillow, he kissed her again, capturing the gasp in her mouth. She pulled away, pulled back from this savage snare that he kept her in, and tugged him towards something gentle.

                “Seth, make love to me. We’ve never done that.” His fingers slowed to an agonizing swirl inside her. The dark haze over his eyes lifted momentarily. “Don’t fuck me. Don’t screw me. I want you to make love to me and I want to feel it.”

He took his fingers out of her and bracing himself on the opposite side of her head, he nosed her cheek. She felt him hard against her thigh and her throbbing need redoubled.

                “I can do that, princess.”

* * *

Across the circular table in the highest level of the Empire State Building, shouts rang out like the clashing of steel drums. Fists pounded the old mahogany wood and all manner of rude gestures were exchanged. Without their anointed leaders, the Five were rapidly dissolving into chaos. Behind them, the highest ranking other members bickered among themselves, only adding to the noise.

                “This is insanity,” Kate muttered over her shoulder to Carlos who stood at her left side. A dazzling grin crossed his face.

                “This is politics, honey.”

                “Someone must face justice for these crimes!” Angel Ruiz from the Puerto Rican divide yelled, having just lost his father and brother two weeks ago. “There is a traitor in our midst and we are obligated to destroy them!”

                “If you’re so wise, then you tell us— how shall we discover a traitor so well hidden, he has managed to take everything from the most powerful crime syndicate on the Eastern seaboard!” Xia, Xan’s sister, spat back.

                “Good, yeah, let’s get the police involved,” snapped Richie. “Great plan!”

                “Not the police, you idiot,” Alexei, Viktor’s cousin, hurled across the table. He slammed his palm against the wood. “We as individual families are should conduct private investigations into the murders.”

                “Right, because we’re all such trust worthy people,” Richie made a face and the squabble erupted once again.

Kate had yet to interject, mostly because she had nothing to add. Neither option was viable. But in the end, they were right. Someone was strategically ripping apart the families, pointing false blame, and rocking the war boats.

She looked at Xan, his face still and reserved, despite the roar of arguments around him. Was she the only one being blackmailed? Why hadn’t the blackmailer come forward yet?

Were the other families being controlled as well? No one was innocent.

The only other silent figure in the room was an unexpected concern. Viktor Romanov, despite his known bloodlust, had barely moved since he sat down. Next to him, Richie was standing, arguing viciously with Angel, and on Richie’s right, sat Seth. He had one foot up on the wide table, his arms crossed, and his eyes focused on Xan, as though expected a sudden brutal attack. But, like someone tapping him on the shoulder, his gazed softened and he glanced across the table to Kate.

A small smile played at his lips. He was being stupid, they both knew that, but the morning kiss goodbye had left an imprint on places they couldn’t name.

                “Why don’t we bring in _La Diosa_ , to tell us what she’s found?” Angel countered. “She more than one else would be an unbiased observer and she knows every weapon in this _pinche_ city.”

Kate shook her head and a voice that didn’t entirely belong to her left her mouth. “Someone’s play us against each other.”

The din stopped. Every eye fell to the heiress. At least now Seth had an excuse to stare. Kate cleared her throat and stood.

                “After the death of my father, I had my people take the bomb fragments to her. What she found was . . . surprising.”

                “What do you mean ‘surprising’?” Xan asked, his long fingers folded in front of him.

Kate squared her shoulders and looked Viktor directly in the eye.

                “It was Russian made.”

The arguments exploded again.

                “How dare you make that kind of an accusation!”

                “She’s just a child— what does she know?”

                “I knew it! It was your fault all along!”   

                “Do you want to start a war?” Alexei demanded of Kate, his blue eyes glowing fiercely.

She shook her head. “No. But I think someone does.”

The voices fell silent once again.

                “What do you mean?”

                “Kisa determined that while it was of Russian design, it was a botched job. Someone is trying to frame the Romanovs.” At that Viktor’s mouth twitched. His gaze with Kate still had not been broken. “Someone’s trying to dirty your good name.”

                “ _La Diosa_ said the bullet that killed my father was of Latin design.” Xia admitted suddenly.

Angel shook his head, cursing lowly in fluent Spanish. “Fuller is right. Someone is trying to make us fight like dogs.”

Viktor watched her with such dark eyes, she wondered if there was any soul left in the Romanov. There was no light, no kindness, or remorse. Only sets of mental calculations and a thirst for power. He took the wooden pick from his mouth and used it to prop up his middle finger up off the table.

                “Seems the little queen is full of surprises.” He chuckled and Angel glanced at Xia uneasily. The Romanov heir stood and pushed in his chair. He stood upright and Kate felt something knot in her stomach. She wanted so desperately to Seth for support but not in a moment like this.

Viktor began to circle the table, weaving in and out from behind aides.

                “Whomever has been planning these attacks is something of a mastermind, there is no doubt. It seems their grand plan is to separate us by our differences, and force us to ignore our strengths. But we are strong, are we not, my friends?” He laughed deeply, gesturing to the unsettled crowd around him. Even Alexei looked nervous. “We have been through hard times and good times and now it is time for us to unify even further.”

He paused by the glass window that looked down onto the sprawling city below them.

                “We must come together for the good of this city. All selfish reasons aside. And you are not selfish, are you, Ms. Fuller?”

He held nothing of the classic elegance of his sister. He was the black devil of his family and his wolfish teeth were starting to show. They met eyes again and Kate felt a shiver run through her spine.

                “Would you do whatever necessary to save this city, Ms. Fuller?”

She raised her chin. “Yes.”

                “Even it would cause you some . . . ehrm . . . how you say, discomfort? _Dissatisfaction_?”

His meaning was purely sexual and her heart thrashed in her chest.

                “Yes.”

Viktor clasped his hands together as though he had just taken the white queen in a game of chess. “Well, then I make a proposal. And of course, this is up for voting by the Five, but my proposal is this: in an effort to save our unstable network, we shall make a new one. At the end of the day of next Sunday, Kate Fuller shall wed into the oldest and most powerful family of us all, by taking Richard Gecko has her husband.”

Behind her a chair squeaked as it rocketed off the floor. Kate turned slowly and saw that Seth had stood bolt upright. The other members all looked and stared.

Seth’s skin was disturbingly pale, but his mouth was set into a furious line.

                “You can’t make her do this. You can’t make anyone do this.”

Viktor’s eyebrow jumped, as though his pet cat finally caught the ball. “Do you have a reason for such . . . opinionated opposition?”

_Oh God, he knows_. Kate glanced back at Viktor, who was smiling rather casually for someone who was about to ruin the life of another human being.

Seth set his jaw into the most disgusted scowl he could muster, but didn’t respond.

Next to him, Richie was silent for the first time all night, glasses pushed to the edge of his nose like a wall. He wasn’t looking at Kate, or anything in particular. Kate remembered his gentle smile in the sunlit park and her heart clenched.

Viktor knew he had won.

                “Of course, this is entirely voluntary. But you must consider the benefit to each house and the city itself.”

In that moment, Kate made it her personal dedication to drag Viktor Romanov directly to Hell’s gate. But there was something wrong with her breathing, worsened by the silence in the room.

If she said no, the photos would undoubtedly surface and her father’s own dark history would come to light and in the wake of such destruction, her family, and the lives of everyone who depended on them for protection, would be left in ruins.

                “I’ll do it.”

Kate’s heart seized, her head swiveling across the table to the youngest Gecko. He was now standing, one hand tucked into the fold of his coat.

                “I am closest to her in age. Our families can help one another rebuild. It makes sense.”

Beside him, Seth hissed something, but he paid his brother no mind.

Kate was furious . . .

Only because he said yes first. Because how could she not?

                “Me too.”

She turned and stared directly at Viktor who was broiling with smugness. _I am coming for you, you motherfucking snake_.

Kate stood and squared her shoulders.

Steel eyes make diamond lies.

                “I’ll marry Richard Gecko and bring peace to our families.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAMP WAMP
> 
> Surprised anyone?
> 
> Yes, yes, there's more coming. Don't panic yet. But yeah, its gonna go from bad to worse, TO AGONIZING DREAD, then everyone's gonna be okay. Scout's Honor.

**Author's Note:**

> I am SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE. I totally blame Christmas merriment. But I'm getting back on the horse and riding it straight into hell, incidentally where I am going after this one. Thank you all so much for your patience and hopefully I'll have the final section up next week! Also i deeply apologize for the formatting errors. I'm not on MY computer right now and this one is fighting me at every step!


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